


Prone to Misery

by stellarparallax



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Awkward Tension, Canonical Character Death, Fade to Black, Foreplay, Frottage, Getting Back Together, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Kissing, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Miklan Died (4 years before start of fic), Minor Character Death, Neck Kissing, Post-Break Up, Second Chances, Self-Destruction, Sexual Content, Sylvain was in a very bad place after Miklan's suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:22:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26648203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stellarparallax/pseuds/stellarparallax
Summary: Following Miklan's death, Sylvain was going down the route of self-destruction that eventually led to the dissolution of his relationship with Felix. Four years later, the pair reunite and find that while they've both changed, the love that they shared back then has not.
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier, very minor yurigrid
Comments: 4
Kudos: 42
Collections: Sylvix Week 2020 Fic Collection





	Prone to Misery

“Are you sure about this?”

Felix turns to Ingrid, trying to pay no mind to the holes that she’s boring into his skin from across the living room. All he offers her is a bitter smile and a quick shrug. Not that she was accepting either.

“Felix, have you thought this through?”

He sighs. “Look, I’m just meeting him for dinner. How bad can it be?”

She crinkles her nose. “Yeah, but you haven’t seen each other since you moved in with me. Won’t this… you know, bring up some unpleasant memories?”

“So what if it does?” he says quickly. He doesn’t let her answer before he walks over to their coat stand and pulls off his coat. He slips it on and wraps a scarf around his neck. He cannot remember if it originally belonged to him or his ex.

“ _ Felix _ ,” she growls. She is now next to him and her tight grasp on his wrist prevents him from leaving their apartment before hearing her out. “You know I love you both, but don’t you remember how messed up you were when things ended?”

His eyes spark with anger. “Of course I fucking remember! If I don’t meddle in your love life, why can’t you stay out of mine?”

As soon as the words cross his lips, he regrets it. Ingrid’s relationship with Yuri was a sore point for her, what with him keeping their relationship secret to evade the watchful eye of the paparazzi. He knows better than to exploit it to win an argument. While she stands firmly before him, he doesn’t miss the slight collapse of her chest.

“Ingrid, I’m sorry.”

“No, no, you’re right.” She turns away. “Just… this time, if you need me, please tell me. Don’t shut me out again.”

A knife twists in his chest. “I promise.”

She gives him a tiny nod and walks back to the couch. 

  
  


Felix stares at his dinner companion from the corner of his eye as he tips back his glass of Dark and Stormy. He feels silly for noting that he probably got a haircut between now and the last time he saw him. That was four years ago; it would be strange if he hadn’t cut his hair since. But in his effort to figure out his motives, Felix comes up empty. There’s nothing that he’s been given to go by. 

So he opts for the direct approach. He puts his highball down and purses his lips. “Why are we here, Sylvain?” 

He scoffs. “As cynical as always, eh, Fe?”

“Can you blame me? We stay out of each other’s hair for years then suddenly, you want to meet up. So, what is it?”

Sylvain begins to say something, but he is interrupted by the waiter arriving with their steak tartare and fish chowder. If Felix blinked, he would have missed the instantaneous grimace that is replaced by a smile far too toothy to be genuine. It doesn’t reach his eyes. He honestly can’t remember the last time it did. 

_ There he goes again, _ Felix thinks,  _ thinking that all the world’s a stage.  _

“Thank you,” Sylvain says, ever even-toned and poised. As soon as the waiter leaves, he picks up a crostino and dips it into the meat. 

Felix pulls the soup bowl closer to himself. He takes a sip of the chowder and looks back up at Sylvain. 

“Might be the best tartare I’ve had. Want some?” He picks up his Manhattan and takes a sip.

_ “Sylvain.” _ What he doesn’t say but he hopes Sylvain hears is “if you make another comment about the food, I’m leaving”.

“Fine.” He puts down his glass and looks right at him. Felix burns at the undivided attention that he’s suddenly receiving. “I asked you to meet me here because I wanted to know how you’ve been.”

Felix blinks back his surprise. “You what?”

“You heard me. I wanted to catch up.” Before Felix can ask why, Sylvain answers. “I’ve missed you.”

His words hang in the air like an unpleasant smell that neither of them know how to get rid of. It lingers, it sticks, it makes you forget what breathing felt like before it was there. And when it finally dissipates, you’ve gotten so used to it that you cannot be sure if it is ever truly gone. 

Felix crinkles his nose. “Yeah? You’ve got a funny way of showing it.”

Sylvain sighs. “I knew you’d say that. Look, Fe, I listened to you. I got into therapy, I straightened my life out. I didn’t want you to see me until I was in a better place.”

“Four years.”

“Yeah, well it took me that long.” 

Felix is tempted to respond with a snarky remark, but he knows better than that. Putting in years of effort and dedication to pulling yourself together is nothing to laugh at. He expects that this is the point where Sylvain brings up the topic of their last few months of their relationship.

And he was right. “Fe, the stuff that happened leading up to…”

“I really don’t want to talk about it.”

“Fe, we have to. I… I have to. Please.”

Felix puts his spoon down. “No. Not tonight. Not ever. I’ve put that chapter behind me and I don’t plan on visiting. Make small talk for all I care, but we are not talking about that.”

“Fe,” Sylvain whispers breathlessly.

He bites down on his lower lip and tries to stop it from quivering. 

“Fe.”

“Stop,” he hisses. “Stop calling me that. Stop… trying to talk about how bad things were before we broke up because it’s just making me think of how good it was before—”

“Before Miklan died?” He didn’t want to say it so he was relieved that Sylvain did.

He nods. 

Sylvain presses his lips together and averts his gaze. Felix wonders what’s running through his pretty head, but he doesn’t want to be the one to ask. They both pick up their glasses to take a swig of their drinks.

Felix reaches for a crostino, but he’s suddenly cognisant of the fact that they’ve both polished off their appetisers. He wonders why no one has served them their entrees, then quickly realised that they hadn’t even ordered. The waitstaff were probably terrified of approaching the quarelling pair.

Sylvain appears to have been on the same page. “Are you still hungry?”

“Not really.”

“Yeah, neither am I.” He checks the time on his phone. “Woah, ten. Do you want to, uhm, take this somewhere else?”

He shrugs. It’s not like he has anywhere else to be. “Sure, what the hell.”

“Great.” He waves a waitress over to ask for the bill. “I’ll take care of this. Can you get our coats and meet me outside?”

  
  


“Any place in mind?” Sylvain asks.

“I don’t know, this is your neighbourhood.”

Sylvain’s eyes widen. “Oh, you heard that I moved.”

Felix freezes. He completely forgot about the time that he  _ just happened _ to pass by their old apartment and  _ just happened _ to see Sylvain loading a truck with boxes and later,  _ just happened  _ to broach the subject with Dimitri. In other words, he pestered Dimitri until he finally cracked and told him where Sylvain’s new apartment was. But Sylvain didn’t need to know that.

“Yeah, uhm, someone probably mentioned it in passing.” He scratches the back of his neck nervously.

Sylvain nods. If he suspects that Felix went around asking about him, he calls no attention to it.

“Maybe I should go.”

“No!” Sylvain reaches out to grab Felix’s arm, but pulls away before he does. “I mean, why don’t we go to my place and keep talking.”

“You say that as if I agreed to talk to you.”

“Felix, please?” 

The look that Sylvain gives him is searing. In all of the time that they’ve known each other, he’s never been able to say no to it. He doesn’t want to say no, but he doesn’t want to say yes either. He doesn’t know what he wants because he hasn’t thought about it, because he never thought he would need to think about it.

“Fuck, Ingrid was right,” he mutters.

“Sorry?”

“Oh, no, ignore that.” He clenches and unclenches his jaw. “Yeah, I’ll go. Lead the way.”

  
  


Felix figures that he must be drunk. Or high. Because the apartment that he’s in looks nothing like the way they used to live. The Sylvain from four years ago would have lived in a place that was dull, sparse and utilitarian. With Felix in the picture, it was a battleground of clean and pristine versus organised chaos. The living room that he’s looking at, however, is filled with charming, slightly mismatched furniture and has large potted plants along the windows. If he hadn’t known that this is indeed Sylvain’s apartment, he would have assumed that they had just broken into someone else’s home.

“Dedue helped me decorate,” he says as if Felix had asked. He takes Felix’s coat and drapes it on the coat rack by the door. “I was a bit sceptical at first because he went on and on about the healing power of plants, but he was right. They do brighten up the place.”

He takes another step into the apartment, still amazed at how it looks. If it were light outside, the sunbeams would be streaming in through the tall windows and bouncing off the large mirror by the kitchen. The decor choices definitely has Dedue’s expert fingerprints all over it. 

“Here, uhm,” Sylvain places his hand on the small of Felix’s back and guides him to the marble island counter. He pulls out a bar stool. “Take a seat. I’ll fix you a drink.”

Felix hops onto the bar stool. “Just give me a beer.”

Sylvain winces. “Sorry, I don’t drink that anymore.”

“Oh? What changed?” Knowing why doesn’t particularly matter to Felix, but he’s hoping that making small talk would waste them enough time that he could go home without having the difficult conversation.

Sylvain gnaws on his bottom lip. “It’s just that the last time I drank beer, I said something that broke my boyfriend’s heart.”

Felix’s shoulder’s fall. He had already chalked up the incident to Sylvain being drunk and let it go after the initial hurt. He didn’t think that it would have affected Sylvain that badly.

“I do have whiskey. I remember you liking that.”

“Yeah,” Felix’s voice cracks. “Whiskey’s good.”

Sylvain places two glasses and a bottle of bourbon on the counter. He twists open the cap and pours the caramel-coloured liquid. He caps the bottle and is about to put it away when Felix stops him.

“We’ll probably need more if we’re going to talk.”

He smiles. “Fair enough.”

He walks over to Felix’s side of the island and pulls out the stool next to him. His gaze flits from Felix to the glasses. Then, they both take one each.

“Is there anything for us to celebrate?” Felix scoffs.

Sylvain lets out a breathy laugh and shrugs. But he clinks his glass with Felix’s anyway. Felix smirks and throws back the drink. He returns the glass to the counter.

“So, what do you want to talk about, Vain?” The whiskey along with his drink at the restaurant has apparently loosened his tongue and let the old nickname slip out.

“Yeah.” Sylvain puts his glass down. “Well, the most important thing I wanted to say was that you were right.”

“What?”

“Four years ago, when you said that Miklan’s death forced me to confront feelings about my family that I had been repressing for years. That I needed to see a therapist to work it out instead of going down a path of self-destruction. You were right.”

“Oh,” Felix presses his lips together. “Uhm, why tell me this now?”

“I just thought you should know.”

He doesn’t know exactly why, but hearing that makes his insides twist.  _ The nerve _ , he thinks, but he doesn’t know why he feels that way.  _ Why does it make him so angry? _

“I’ve known it for a while but I didn’t want to admit it. You were right to have left me back then.”

Felix’s mouth goes dry. His hands are shaking and he’s glaring at Sylvain. He still can’t place what is getting him so agitated, but he rides the wave of fury anyway.

To his credit, Sylvain immediately picks up on it. “You’re angry. That’s justified. I can’t apologise enough.”

“Shut up,” he blurts out.

“Excuse me?”

“Shut the fuck up. I don’t want to hear you sit there and tell me that I was right. That you’re sorry. Not in this fucking beautiful apartment that looks nothing like the shit hole we used to live in.”

“Fe.”

“Stop calling me that! Stop trying to talk to me like we’re trying to work things out when I’ve never even said that I wanted that!”

Sylvain tries to catch Felix’s flailing wrists, but Felix slaps him away. He gets off the bar stool and takes a step away from him. Then, with hot tears rolling down his cheeks, his fragile voice whispers, “Why did it take me leaving for you to pull yourself together?”

Sylvain takes a step forward and Felix takes a step back. He raises his hand in surrender and says, “Fe, I’m not doing this to hurt you. I just thought… Well, my therapist said that part of why Miklan’s suicide affected me so much could be that I felt guilty about my relationship with him when he was alive. It wasn’t my fault, but I blamed myself for it. I just thought that maybe you… maybe you might have felt the same way about me back then.”

He always knew on some level that he had conflicted feelings about the way things ended, but hearing it explained so plainly was too much for him to bear. He had spent the last four years avoiding Sylvain, not because he didn’t want to see him happy but because he was afraid to see him be anything but happy. He didn’t want to entertain the idea that Sylvain could be in a worse state because he left. Having his worst fears disputed was unbearable. Because all that meant was that he wasted so many years feeling guilty over something that wasn’t his fault.

“I wasn’t ready to work on myself and there was nothing you could have said or done to convince me. It wasn’t your fault that we aren’t together now.” 

Felix recoils. Sylvain takes a step forward and this time, Felix doesn’t back away. 

“I’m sorry, Fe. I’m sorry you had to wait so long for me to return.”

Felix swallows hard. Then, he steps forward and presses his lips against Sylvain’s. 

“I love you, Fe. I’ve missed you so much,” he gasps.

Instead of saying it back, Felix opts instead to tilt his chin up and kiss him again. His hands start in Sylvain’s hair, but quickly slides down his neck and to the top button of his shirt. With ease, he undoes the buttons one at a time. The front of his shirt hangs open and he explores his chest with fervour, paying special attention to the way his contours curve more than it did before. 

“You’ve filled out,” he marvels.

“Been eating better. But fair’s fair. I want to see what you look like now.” Sylvain scratches at the edge of Felix’s t-shirt, his fingers brushing maddeningly faintly against the thin line of exposed skin. 

Felix lifts his arms to allow Sylvain to pull his shirt off. The corner of his lip twitches when he finally gets to see Felix’s bare chest. Admittedly, his wordless gaze makes Felix slightly self-conscious. He can’t tell if what he’s thinking is positive or not.

“Some things never change, eh, Fe? You’re as beautiful as always.”

“Oh, stop.” Felix reaches around to give Sylvain’s ass a firm squeeze. “Don’t flatter me like that when you’ve got an ass like this.”

Sylvain gasps. “Fuck, Fe, you know what you touching me like that does to me.”

“Do I?” Felix gives his ass another squeeze and Sylvain melts into his touch.

This time, Sylvain doesn’t protest to his taunting. Instead, he grabs Felix’s wrists and pins them against the closest wall. Felix moans unabashedly at the feeling of Sylvain’s cock pressing against him. He bucks against Sylvain, panting softly as his own erection drags along Sylvain’s thigh. 

“Pent up, aren’t we?” Sylvain smirks. “Can’t wait for me to take care of you?

“ _ Yes _ ,” Felix wheezes. He leverages himself against the wall and wraps his legs around Sylvain’s waist. “ _ God, yes. _ ”

Sylvain goes straight for Felix’s neck. He starts with soft kisses that turn into sucks that Felix knows will leave bruises that he’ll inevitably have to explain to Ingrid. But he’s finding it hard to care. Not when he’s dreamed about this for so long. Not when Sylvain’s hands are around his waist and his cock is snug against his ass. 

“Vain,” he whimpers needily.

“Yes, what do you need?”

Sylvain tweaks at Felix’s nipple and his back arches. There are just too many articles of clothing left and so close that they can be together. 

“You.”

Sylvain smirks,  _ the bastard _ . Then he brings his lips close to Felix’s ear and whispers, “Yes sir.”

Felix barely registers the journey to the bedroom before he is thrown onto the mattress. He undos his belt and pants and kicks it off to the side, leaving his briefs that tents so much that it hurts to keep them on. He looks up and sees that Sylvain is completely naked. His mouth waters at the sight of his cock. He reaches to pull off his own briefs but Sylvain stops him.

“Let me.” 

Sylvain hooks his fingers around the elastic and slowly peels it off Felix’s crotch. As he slides it down his legs, he presses kisses into his thighs. He glances up ever so often to wink at Felix, who groans every time.

“ _ Vain _ ,” Felix’s tone is warning. “Get to it.”

“As you wish.”

He forcefully pulls off the cloth from Felix and lets it fall unceremoniously to the floor. Suddenly, Felix feels all too vulnerable splayed on the bed, ready for whatever Sylvain has in mind. But the anxiety is quickly cast aside by Sylvain climbing onto the bed and kissing him hard. His fingers run through Felix’s hair and with a few tugs, he removes the elastic that held it in a tight bun. 

The lights in the bedroom are off, but the light from the living room streams in through the door that they left open. And when Felix’s hair tumbles down and frames his face, Sylvain backs away to be awed at the way his sharp features catch the faint light.

“Fe,” Sylvain whispers. “I need to tell you something in case you sneak out tomorrow morning before I get up.”

Felix’s breath hitches.

“I love you. I never stopped. I can’t.” Felix cups his cheek and finds that it’s wet. “I just couldn’t let you leave without telling you that.”

Felix pulls Sylvain down to press a kiss on his forehead. “I’m not going to sneak out on you, dummy. I love you too.”

Hearing that, Sylvain shudders and cries out. 

“I love you,” Felix puts his arms around his neck. “I’m here. I’ve got you.”

  
  


Felix drags himself out of bed to splash cold water on his face. When he promised that he wouldn’t sneak out on Sylvain, he had forgotten about agreeing to cover Ashe’s shift at his part-time job that he hates with passion. He considers calling in to tell his manager to go fuck himself, but he needs the money. Having lost her job recently, Ingrid needs him to cover rent until she could find a new one. Their collective savings would only go so far.

Still, it isn’t easy having to leave Sylvain when all he wants is to spend the rest of the day curled up on his chest. 

He hears Sylvain stir in the bedroom so he walks over to him. He kisses the top of his head and sighs. “Hey.”

“Hey.” The look he’s giving him is muddled with fear and confusion.

“I’m sorry. I forgot that I need to rush home and get ready for work. I’ll call you after my shift?”

“Mm.” He gets up and raises his hands, beckoning him for a hug. 

Felix presses himself into Sylvain, smiling into his neck. “See you later, Vain.”

Sylvain releases him and he takes a step back from the bed. He looks around the room, as if trying to commit its entirety to memory. Then, his eyes land back on Sylvain and he can’t help how he’s falling in love all over again from just looking at his dopey lovesick grin. 

He takes a step back, then another. He can’t understand why he’s hesitating so when he knows that it won’t be his last time here. But maybe, just maybe, that feeling is an omen that he won’t be in a hurry to leave again.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Woah, you're at the end! Thank you for reading this! I really gave this one a lot of tender loving care, so I'd appreciate it if you left me a kudo and a comment.
> 
> You can also find me on twitter at [5tellarparallax](https://twitter.com/5tellarparallax)!
> 
> If you liked this fic and want to support me somehow, you can give my tweet for this fic a boost [(link here)](https://twitter.com/5tellarparallax/status/1309541417732067328?s=20)!


End file.
